It Never Came Easy
by Stratocruiser
Summary: All the things they wished they could say and never take back.
1. Chapter 1

Dori Doreau's usual morning routine included coffee and a paper and watching the news. She didn't do any of that the day after Hammer proposed.

Instead, she went into Captain Trunk's office, shut the door and sat down.

"I can't work with Hammer anymore," she said.

"Did he hurt you? Did Inspector Hammer do anything...improper?" asked Trunk.

Dori shook her head no.

"Because if I find out he has, it's not going to be pretty. Doreau, you're the best officer I have and the only one who kept that imbecile in check."

She looked at her lap. Trunk sighed.

"Look, it's going to take a week or more to push the paperwork through. Can you get through a week?"

Dori nodded quietly, her gaze meeting Trunk's. He ran his hand over his face and frowned.

"If there's a way this can be avoided, please make it so," said Trunk, with just a hint of pleading. "Whatever happened between the two of you...God only knows...maybe I don't want to know after this week, but keep your head up."

There was a long pause before Dori got up, smoothing her skirt. She muttered a thanks and managed a weak smile before leaving. Trunk sat back, looking astonished.

Sledge was at his desk and looked up as she passed. For a moment, she thought he might say something, but instead he heaved a heavy sigh and opened a case file. Dori sat down at her own desk, trying to look busy but mentally replaying the night before.

_"Will you marry me?"_

_"Are you serious?"_

He said no. Sledge put her on the spot. He wasn't serious. Was he? Nothing was what she expected. A marriage proposal followed dating, and it was something romantic, not a post-wedding exclamation in a dive bar.

Sledge wasn't one to hand out compliments, unless they were backwards. He certainly never complimented her looks or said "I love you" or "I like you".

_"You have a lot of hair. On your head."_

There were so many reasons why. But why did she feel so lousy?

She grabbed a case file and started her own paperwork, with her own sigh.

* * *

"HAMMER! IN MY OFFICE NOW!"

The eruption came around lunchtime. Dori was coming back down from the break room when she heard it, and knew Trunk tried to wait until she was gone for the fury to begin. Sledge walked in like it was just a usual scream session, but Dori's heart sank knowing he was about to get cross-examined about their relationship.

"HAMMER, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

She winced and turned around to leave.

"HAMMER GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

Yeah, now was a really good time to go back upstairs.

"YOU DID THAT TO THE WOMAN WHOSE ONLY PSYCHOLOGICAL DEFECT IS TOLERATING YOU?!"

And maybe jump off the roof.

* * *

When she came back to the office, Sledge's light was off and his coat was gone. Trunk was gone too. Dori went back to work on case files and didn't see either of them for the rest of the afternoon. The other officers stayed prudently away from her, since none were hard of hearing and Trunk's voice carried.

The long day turned into a long night. Dori couldn't sleep. The thought of tomorrow was troubling. God help her if she and Sledge caught a case. Dori wished her mother or grandmother or someone was still alive. She had to figure things out alone and felt so lonely and confused that night she didn't sleep much.

Her appearance reflected that the next day. Dori settled on jeans and a shirt, not her usual office wear, but certainly comfortable. She made it in before Sledge and took the time to relax and breathe little.

When he did come, the purple bags under his eyes belied a similar problem. The familiar blend of soap and aftershave wafted over to her desk, and still her heart did the little flip it always did.

A case came in. Trunk sent them out to a series of robberies on a city block a few miles from the precinct. The thought of spending time sitting beside Sledge in the car unnerved Dori. Sledge seemed jumpy, and only broke the silence by offering the radio. She nodded a little too vigorously as he selected an oldies station.

_"We could be married, and then we'd be happy, wouldn't it be niiiiceee."_

Sledge blanched and started pushing radio buttons.

_"I'm beginning to think that man has never found all the words that could make you want me."_

He made for the buttons again, but Dori sucked air between her teeth and and told him to leave the radio alone. Sledge looked at her sheepishly and dropped his hand.

The investigation went as usual, no arrests yet, but all the stories lined up to point to the same culprits. One store owner was hospitalized and in no condition to talk. It was touch and go as to whether she'd survive.

This was a lot to think about and they were quiet on the way back to the station. Dori kept her mouth shut when Sledge ran over two garbage cans and knocked the top off a fire hydrant. The radio played "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" and all Dori wanted to be was somewhere else as she stared through a cascade of water at the clouds.

* * *

They limped through to Thursday. The robbery victim died. Sledge's informant gave him a lead on a restaurant just down the block from where the crimes took place. There was word on the street it was a money laundering operation run by a gang with a nasty reputation.

SWAT was going to raid the place, but Sledge and Dori got out ahead of all that and snuck in the back. What they found wasn't encouraging. There were enough weapons around the place to start World War 3. Dori's instinct kicked in and she stayed quiet, assessing her way back to the door. Sledge had a tight grip on his own gun and he was just about to grab one of the other guns when the room went dark and a volley of bullets sounded, one so close to Dori's ear she could feel the air it displaced.

Sledge grabbed her arm and they took cover behind an old couch in the back of the warehouse-like room. He shot into the air and trued to push Dori down by the head as another round bullets came. She popped off about 3 shots. Sledge pushed her down and fired wildly. There was movement ahead of them, and a wedge of light from a door opening and closing cast against the wall they were propped against.

The couch wasn't going to provide any cover for automatic weapon fire. There was nowhere else to go. All Dori could hear now was their own breathing. She was aware of Sledge's closeness and as her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see his dim figure in a defensive posture, tense and ready to spring. In the shadows she saw his hand on his gun, knuckles tight.

The door opened again, throwing more light behind them. She moved to the end of the sofa and fired again, only to be greeted with bullets that tore through the drywall above her. Sledge fired in kind, the louder sound of his gun echoing through the room. Nothing happened. The door opened and closed again.

"I'm out," she whispered. For the first time Dori could recollect, she was out of ammo. Sledge had to be down to only a few shots himself.

"Here," he said, passing his gun to her. "Your night vision is better than mine."

Dori was so stunned she couldn't say anything. She held it carefully. The door opened again. She leveled the gun on the back of the couch and braced herself.

One shot. A scream.

Second shot. A grunt.

Third shot. The gun clicked. No more bullets.

Shots flew in their direction. Dori felt a sharp, electric pain in her upper arm but ignored it. She crouched down again and handed the gun back to Sledge. There was more shooting now, but in another part of the building. They could only hope that was the SWAT team, and could only pray they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.

Sledge was thinking so hard his eyes were shut. She knew he was debating internally about storming the door. If anything else was hiding in the room, they were dead meat. "We could use the couch," she whispered. "There are other guns up front."

"I feel like a sitting duck," he said. "Let's wait another couple of minutes, and get out of here."

They sat beside each other in the dark for what seemed an eternity. When he started shifting around, she took it as a signal.

"Sledge, watch yourself," she hissed.

He ignored that and shifted again, so he was pushing couch with his shoulder, in a crouched position. Dori tried it, and felt the pain in her arm. She used her hands instead. "3..2..1", she counted, and they both shoved forward with all their might. She became aware no one was shooting at them. They moved out cautiously, still holding their own guns, hiding in the shadows.

Sledge's foot thumped something large. It was a body, presumably Dori's hit. Dori found a pistol beside it, and passed it to Sledge.

"Sticky," he mumbled, trying to see his hands in the dimness. The sound of bullets was getting closer. Dori spotted a glint in the half-light, another gun, and she grabbed it.

"They're getting closer," she whispered. Dori and Sledge moved closer to the door. The wait was nerve-wracking. They didn't know who would be in the hallway. Footsteps echoed down a corridor. Each of them tiptoed to the door, knowing the element of surprise was all they had left.

"HAMMER! DOREAU!"

The unmistakeable sound of Trunk's voice echoed. Dori grabbed the doorknob and turned it cautiously. Sledge moved behind her, gun ready to fire. Dori gave a push and the door flung open, letting in a blast of florescent light. In it, they could see Trunk and other armed officers, sweeping through the building. All stopped to train their guns on the two of them.

"How long have you been in here?" asked Trunk, motioning for the other officers to aim away.

Sledge shrugged. He and Doreau dropped their found weapons on a table and looked back into the room behind them. The walls looked like swiss cheese. Two men were dead, shot right through the heart.

"That your shooting Hammer?" Trunk asked, surveying the scene with his hands on his hips.

"Doreau's. But she was using my gun, of course."

Trunk looked surprised. "She used your gun? Amazing work, Doreau."

Both of them leveled a gaze at her. Blood was dripping down her arm, drops falling from her fingertips.

"What?" she said, seeing the surprised look on their faces.

"Doreau..." said Hammer, his eyes widening. "Dori...".

She looked at both of them, and followed their eyes to her shoulder. Sledge grabbed her and put his handkerchief over the wound, holding it tight.

"You didn't realize you were shot? Dori, that's...you're a tough.."

Trunk yelled for a medic and the last thing Dori could remember was Sledge crounched over her, hand on her cheek. His face was turbulent, his eyes even more so. She tried to tell him how she felt, how she loved him, how she would have said yes if he were serious. But nothing came out.

* * *

"Doreau...Doreau...," came the soft voice, rousing her from wherever she was. Dori was confused about her surroundings, but snug. She cracked open an eye to see Trunk at her side.

"We were worried about you. You lost a lot of blood," he said. "They say you're going to be okay."

She managed a weak smile and looked around. Hammer was on her other side, slumped in a chair wearing sunglasses and drinking from a hospital cup. "How long have I been out?"

"A few hours," said Trunk. "You had a chunk of your upper arm taken off by a bullet at reasonably close range."

Sledge shifted in the chair, looking as tired as she'd ever seen him. He was holding her purse and a small satchel, presumably containing her clothes. For some reason, seeing him with the purse struck Dori as pretty funny. She choked down a laugh that turned into a cough. Sledge passed her the cup he was drinking from. She took a gulp and handed it back, their fingertips brushing. His were stained with blood and gunpowder.

* * *

An hour later, Dori was given the all clear to go home, but someone had to keep an eye on her. Sledge accepted and Trunk gave him a dark look, with a muttered something Dori couldn't make out. Sledge helped her into the car, and even ran into the station for her to grab her gym bag.

"Are you hungry?" Sledge asked, as they took a corner too tight and bumped the curb.

"A little. The medication is making me feel a little jittery."

"We're close to my place. Let's get a pizza. No anchovies, I promise." He liked them, and after many shared pizzas, Dori just picked them off. She was aware this was a big sacrifice in his part.

"But I need a shower," she protested.

Sledge waved his hand. "Use mine, it's no big deal. You have your gym stuff anyway." She was stunned.

_He was scared. He's still scared._

"OK. Pepperoni, mushrooms, peppers, onions, extra sauce, extra cheese," she rattled off. He grimaced, acting true to form.

"Vegetables on pizza. Tsch," he said. "Putting vegetables on it doesn't make it healthier Doreau."

"Get whatever you want then," she said shortly, trying to put on sunglasses. Then she tried to hold her arms up. The motor skills just weren't there. She settled on looking out the window. Sledge shrugged. "You know something Hammer? I thought just for a moment.."

"You thought what?"

"Nothing."

The rest of the ride continued in silence. Sledge did help her out of the car and guided her up the stairs to the elevator. Dori was aware she was wobbling a bit, likely from the painkiller. When he got her in the apartment, she leaned against the door as he rummaged through a closet, and produced a towel and a washcloth. She accepted them and walked slowly to the bathroom, carrying her gym bag with her good arm.

It felt good to wash off the dust and blood of the day. The hot water soothed her nerves. She felt awkward washing with one arm sticking out of the shower curtain and dressing was even worse. She couldn't get her injured arm into the sweatshirt.

Sledge was watching TV when she came out. His tie was off and the gun was slung over a chair. He looked at her and squinted. "Nice octopus impression, Doreau," he quipped. She rolled her eyes.

"I can't get my arm through the sleeve. It feels like a block of cement."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not right now," she said, trying to look at it. Sledge walked over and assessed the situation. He grabbed her wrist and the bottom of the shirt and tried to thrust her arm up in one move.

Dori yelped and Sledge froze. "I didn't mean that," he said quickly. "Maybe a larger shirt would work. Wait here."

_Where the hell else am I going to go? _thought Dori. Sledge went into the closet again and produced one of his own sweatshirts. She went back to the bathroom to change and was able to wiggle her arm into it. It smelled good, like him. She wandered out just as the pizza was arriving.

Dori sat on the couch as Sledge dug two root beers out of his fridge and put them next to the pizza box on the coffee table. She could see he ordered with the toppings she wanted and thanked him profusely. He gave her a sidewise look and started eating. She did too.

After they were both full, Sledge turned the TV on. They sat a careful distance from each other on the couch, which was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture you could imagine. It was low, itchy and only came about halfway up your back. Still, it felt good just to sit peacefully, feeling full and clean, without bullets or blood flying. In time, Dori felt herself drifting off. The glow of the television fell into a pinprick and her head lolled backwards.

She wasn't sure how long the doze went on. Dori felt a pain in her back from being in such an awkward position but was too tired to do anything about it. She felt herself slipping back into slumber again, but suddenly strong arms grabbed her, and she was lifted off the couch. Sledge gently carried her to his bed and laid her softly onto the mattress. The covers were tucked around her and he snuck away. Dori smiled to herself, feeling much more relaxed and comfortable and warm. She drifted off to the sound of the shower starting.

* * *

The rest lasted until about 3am, when the pain medicine wore off. Dori woke to an incessant twinge in her arm that continued to get worse. Groggily, she sat up and viewed her surroundings. A glass of water and one of the pills was on the bedside table. She took it, and made a motion to get back into bed, but stopped when she heard the TV still on.

Dori tiptoed to the living room, where Sledge was asleep sitting up on the couch. The light the TV cast bathed him in changing colors, but none of it could cover up just how exhausted he looked. She came closer, hoping he'd wake up. Sledge didn't stir even when she clicked the TV off.

She reached out for his hands.

"Sledge, come with me," she whispered. He opened his eyes a crack. "Come on."

He stood up, mumbling something. Dori pulled him by both hands to the bedroom, rolled down the covers and he crawled in. She got in beside him, arranged the covers and pulled his head to her shoulder. He sighed as she stroked his hair. "I meant it," he said. "You, gun."

She didn't know if meant the wedding proposal or his observation about pizza with vegetables. The painkiller was kicking in and none of that mattered to either of them anymore in their sleep.

* * *

Sledge's alarm went off at 6am. They both tried to reach out and silence it. The two were a mass of tangled limbs. In his sleep, Sledge pulled Doreau into a hug, like a child holding his favorite stuffed bear. In kind, Doreau settled against him, her chin in his chest.

She blearily looked up at him. The stubble on his chin rubbed against her forehead. _If I could just stay this way, for however long it takes..._

"Hey," he mumbled. "Do you want breakfast?"

Dori managed an affirmative. He crawled over her carefully and sat on the side of the bed for a moment, rubbing his eyes.

"How's the arm?"

"Sore all over. They're supposed to change the bandages this afternoon."

Sledge nodded and got up, stretching. She made a motion to do the same, but he waved this hands, instructing her to stay in bed. After he made his way to the kitchen, Dori heard the oven door slam and the coffee pot going. She was curious, but not curious enough to get out of the warm bed. He came in a few minutes later with a couple plates of warmed-over pizza and two cups of coffee.

They ate in silence, both sitting on the bed. After they were done, Sledge bused the plates back to the kitchen and Dori went to the bathroom to freshen up. It was strange, like they were a couple, with their morning routine in sync. Dori wasn't sure what they were now but figured it was a step forward. They could still be partners after all. Maybe, too, they could spend more time together.

Her doctor appointment wasn't until two, but Sledge had to work. He drove her home, knocking over two garbage cans in her apartment parking lot, true to form.

"So, I'll be back at 1:30 to grab you," he said. She was surprised. Usually she would have been left at her own devices. Dori nodded and got out of the car with her gym bag. Sledge quietly followed her up to her apartment door, his eyes scanning for any scumbags that might appear on the suburban street, or jump out of the stairwell.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Nah, I'd better get going."

They stood there for a moment.

"Sledge, thank you. For everything. Everything," she said, feeling her cheeks turn pink.

"Awww, please, come on," Sledge said. "You got shot, and didn't even feel it."

"Just a flesh wound."

He shrugged and looked around. Dori had a feeling he was searching for something else to say, so she stood there, staring at him.

"You know I didn't mean..you know last weekend...," he started, and hung his head. "I'm sorry."

Dori nodded, trying to be dismissive, like it wasn't a big deal, when in fact it was one of the biggest deals of life.

She felt tears welling up, but forced herself to look him in the eye. What she saw awed her. In that instant, Dori knew he'd been serious about the apology, and maybe even serious about what he said after the wedding too.

"I'm sorry," he whispered this time.

"It's okay," she said, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry too."

Dori wasn't prepared for what came next. He put his hands around her waist and drew her in for a lingering kiss. She relaxed again in his touch, feeling his grip grow stronger and more assured. When they finally broke for air, she smiled. So did he.

"I liked that," said said, a little breathlessly.

"Look, would you like to get sushi and go to the movies tomorrow night? If you don't have any other plans?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"Yes, yes, I would," she said, still smiling. His hands remained on her waist. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then they both stepped back.

"1:30?" he said.

She nodded. He looked at her for a long time before putting on his sunglasses and walking slowly down the sidewalk, whistling a tune she couldn't quite make out.


	2. Chapter 2

Dori Doreau's usual morning routine included coffee and a paper and watching the news. She didn't do any of that the day after Hammer proposed.

Instead, she went into Captain Trunk's office, shut the door and sat down. He barely looked up as she walked in.

"I can't work with Sledge anymore," she said.

Trunk jumped up abruptly, startling Dori.

"WHAT IS IT NOW? A few months ago you said the two of you were fine!"

Dori gave him a half-smile.

"He asked me to marry him again."

Now Trunk's face went blank.

"I said yes."

* * *

At first, the dates ended at her door. As her arm healed, they kept a standing Wednesday night bowling and beer outing. Saturday nights, they'd either go to a movie or out to eat. Dori even agreed to a gun show and Hammer went to a baseball game. Nothing felt terribly different between them, other than a mutual and unspoken understanding they wouldn't let any of this interfere with their police work. So far, around the precinct, to them it seemed no one knew anything was changing.

He was still Sledge Hammer. He still made a big deal out of beating her at bowling and laughed the whole way home at the face she made during a gross part of a horror movie. Outside of a 5 year old, Dori had never seen anyone as messy with an ice cream cone. After a stop at Twisty Treat on the way to a stakeout, both the car and Sledge's face, hands and clothes would turn into a quagmire.

Still, there was no one she'd rather be with, even when the ice cream made her hair stick to the seat. Dori remembered his expression after she'd been shot. _He was genuinely scared. We almost lost each other twice in that 5-day span._

* * *

"Doreau, you will be driving, UNDERSTAND THAT HAMMER? This is a classic car, which can't be scratched or dented or run into mailboxes," Trunk hissed.

"Gotcha," said Dori. She accepted the keys and watched Sledge pout.

"I'm a perfectly good driver, Captain. My father taught me. Spotless record," said Sledge.

Trunk took a breath to calm down.

"Now, these people deal in these old cars. They'll want to buy yours. They're willing to kill for cars like these. They hang out at the Starlight Drive-In and dress the part. YOU will BOTH dress the part. And Hammer...DON'T RUIN THE CAR!"

"I promise the car's in good hands," smiled Dori, hanging onto the keys tightly. She expected Sledge to grab them.

"You two need to act like you have no idea what's going on. You're just out for an evening at the drive-in," continued Trunk. Dori felt her cheeks go pink and prayed Trunk wouldn't notice.

She followed Sledge back to the desks, smiling faintly. He slammed down in his chair.

"Can you believe that? He chose you to drive, not me," he muttered.

"You know, women drive just as well as men. Some even better," she said, trying to sound upbeat. Sledge groaned and shook his head.

"Blah blah blah Doreau."

"Hammer, you have to face it..."

"Yap yap yap. Take your chipper chipmunk act somewhere else."

"FINE," said Dori, slamming a desk drawer. "You have no argument..."

"Please, I just have better things to do."

"Like what?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He opened some files and acted like he was working for a long moment.

"OH! It's lunch time!" Sledge said loudly, slamming down the files he was holding. "Don't you owe me a hot dog?"

Dori rolled her eyes. He stood up and looked at her expectantly. She threw her hands up, grabbed her purse and walked with him out the door.

Across a few desks, Majoy and Daley heard the whole exchange, and watched the two senior officers leave together.

"Think they're doin' it?" winked Majoy.

"If not now, soon," said Daley. "Or they'll...I need a verb."

They laughed and got back to their Mad Libs game.

* * *

The car was a red and cream '57 Chevy and even Dori was hesitant about driving it. She felt stupid in the lace collared shirt, poodle skirt, pony tail and saddle shoes. Sledge didn't seem to mind the jock outfit, but he pouted about being in the passenger seat.

But the drive-in looked beautful as they pulled in, neon glowing and the screen flickering in the mild spring air. They found a parking spot a few rows from the front and set the speaker up. Sledge seemed to relax a little. She thought he looked good in the letterman's jacket, tee shirt, jeans and All-Stars but kept the compliments to herself.

They watched the dancing hot dogs and marching ice creams. Then came an old classroom film about juvenile delinquency, which Sledge enjoyed. All the while, they kept an eye out for anyone acting strangely, or anyone ogling the car. So far the evening was peaceful, save for the shouts of children running between cars, spilling popcorn. The first fireflies of the season speckled the night sky.

Sledge yawned and stretched out his arms. He looked at Dori closely and draped one across her shoulders. She gave him a smile and moved closer. "It's so nice here," she sighed. "Quiet, even."

He rolled his eyes. "We're not supposed to be enjoying this. There could be soul sucking scumbags in any of these cars."

"Sledge, there's nothing going on. Can't we just enjoy the evening?"

He didn't say anything, but kept his arm around her. The movie started and Dori figured she'd be better off watching it. "The Blob" was corny but it was better than trying to reason with her partner. Sledge was a Steve McQueen fan. His attention was on the screen, not their surroundings.

Dori moved in a little closer, resting her head against his shoulder. She felt his gun dig into her hip. Sledge swallowed and turned to face her. Dori closed her eyes and felt his lips brush hers, softly at first. She put a hand on his face, to deepen the kiss. He responded, not being too demanding, but more intimate than he'd even been.

She was so turned on her fingertips tingled. Sledge moved his hand out of her hair and to her side, making lazy circles closer and closer to her chest. She could feel his pulse quickening as he abandoned her mouth and went to her neck. She raked her nails down his back, squirming against the seat, kissing him wherever she could.

Dori was just about to help him unbutton her blouse when someone knocked at the passenger side window. She was vaguely aware the windows were fogged, making it nearly impossible to see in. Sledge untangled himself from Dori and cranked it the window down. Dori moved back to the driver's seat, flushed and more than a little angry at the intrusion.

"Nice car ya got here. Ever think of selling it? I'd be willing to talk price tonight," said the intruder. Even his voice is stupid, thought Dori. She snorted.

"Well, we're not thinking of selling now, but for the right price, we can talk," said Sledge, in a pained voice. Oops, thought Dori.

"Here's my card. Call anytime after ten. Or we could arrange a trade. I've got a '60 T-Bird that's collecting dust," said the man. He peeked in the car at Dori and winked. "Let the little lady get something for herself too."

"This is MY CAR," Dori hissed, showing her teeth and startling Sledge. The man held up his arms and backed away.

Dori let out a breath and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Sledge held his head in his hands.

"I think that's our maggot," said Sledge, looking like he'd be more comfortable in a fetal position. His hair was on end and lipstick marks covered his face. Whatever mood the man interrupted was gone. Dori was madder than she'd been in a long time.

"Got carried away," said Sledge weakly, trying to straighten out his jacket.

She shook her head and leaned back against the seat, sighing. Maybe she wanted to get carried away, in more ways than one. "It's okay. It's fine," she said. Sledge looked at her warily and shook his own head. He stared out the windshield, back at the movie, back on the job. Dori folded her arms and tried to watch too.

* * *

The screen flickered to black and around them, headlights popped on. It was midnight, and everyone was headed home for bed or to continue the party. Sledge was in a light doze, still lipstick covered and tousle-haired. She shook him and he yawned.

"Nothing doing here," she said. The car started with a rumble. At least it would get back clean and undamaged. Dori hung the speaker back up and was just about to pull away when she became conscious of a dark figure standing beside her. She whispered Sledge's name. His hand moved to his gun.

"You sure you won't sell?" asked the idiot from earlier. Dori felt her anger rise again. The man was wearing a greaser outfit, despite being about 50 and 50 pounds overweight.

"No, we aren't selling, despite what you hear from him," she said, motioning to Sledge.

"Too bad, too bad, I thought we could make a deal," said the fat greaser, who didn't seem in a hurry to leave. "You two are new around here."

"Yep," said Dori absentmindedly.

The greaser leaned down, almost whispering in her ear.

"If you ever want to ditch this guy and take me for a ride, I'm usually here Saturdays."

Sledge perked up from the passenger seat and leaned over Dori. "Back off bucko. She and I ride together," he said, squinting. "She doesn't ride with tubby scumbags."

"Oh yeah? Maybe she needs to find someone with their own car, who does their own driving, tough guy."

Sledge made to lunge but Dori poked him in the ribs.

"We really have to go," she said, putting the car in gear.

The greaser put his hand on the door.

"Not so fast baby. I want you...and I want the car...and I want to beat that sissy idiot to a pulp."

"That's it," Sledge spat, grabbing for his gun. Instead, Dori gunned the engine and took off, throwing the greaser off balance and Sledge against the back of the seat. She slalomed out of the parking lot, and was thinking they may be in the clear when a pink Cadillac swooped out of an exit after them.

Sledge muttered something and held his gun out, ready to react. The Caddy moved behind them, out of drive-in itself and onto the frontage road. Dori hit the accelerator and the car's wheels spun, sliding in about 12 different directions at once until it rocketed forward. There was another noise over the screaming engine. Gunshots. The people in the Cadillac were shooting at them. Sledge leaned out the passenger side window and fired a few shots and Dori desperately concentrated on the road.

An intersection loomed ahead, with a red light. The Cadillac was gaining on them. Dori held steady, hoping and praying the light would change. Sledge's eyes grew wide. He yelled her name, but still held his gun out the window. Frantically, Dori searched for an escape route, but the Chevy's forward momentum wouldn't allow anything. About 30 feet from the crosswalk, the light turned green, and she powered through. The Caddy followed, looking even more menacing with its arched fins and dual headlights.

The road blurred and the car began to smell hot. The temperature gauge was starting to creep up, something else terrifying to concentrate on. Sledge was all the way back in the car now. He looked white as a ghost.

A curve loomed ahead. Dori knew she'd have to brake to get into it safely, but she ran the risk of being hit from behind. The smaller, nimbler Chevy would have to make it. There was a drop on one side and a cement wall on the other.

"Hold on Sledge!"

She tapped the brake into the curve and hit the accelerator, swinging the wheel and bracing herself in the seat. The rear wheels slid, then caught in the loose macadam, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and debris. They spun for a forever-second as Dori gritted her teeth and swung the wheel the other way. It took another eternity, but the car responded, fishtailing back on the narrow road, which was now a straightaway.

Dori had the strangest feeling. Out of sheer terror came a sort of mad elation. She smiled at Sledge, who could only manage a puzzled expression back. He was trying to reach the portable unit in the glovebox while holding on for dear life.

On they screamed, until Dori realized no one was behind them anymore. A roadhouse with a busy parking lot stood ahead, so she came to a wheel-stuttering deceleration and pulled in. The temperature gauge pegged to H. There was a pause in the car. Sledge was still fumbling with shaking hands trying to open the glove box.

Dori felt a wave of relief, then pure nausea. She jumped out of the car on uneasy legs, needing the fresh air. The sick feeling passed after a few minutes, and she heard Sledge raise someone on the radio. The soft breeze fanned her body, cooling it down after - like the car - she'd been overheated. Twice.

"They have a unit coming to retrace our steps," said Sledge, slamming the car door shut and joining her.

He waited a beat.

"You know you're kind of pretty when you're insane."

Dori rolled her eyes but smiled. They were leaning against the front bumper, standing inches from one another. She reached up to try and wipe the lipstick off his face, and he obliged, leaning down.

"That's the first time you've said anything about how I look," said Dori, scrubbing away with her fingers. "God, this stuff sticks like tar."

"Yeah," was all Sledge replied. He had a faraway look in his eyes. Most of the lipstick was down to dull smears a minute later. Dori stepped back and he was looking beyond her, still a million miles away. So she leaned next to him again and waited.

Police cars started screaming by. Then came an ambulance. The lights faded into the distance as the sirens echoed from what seemed every direction.

"Is that from us? I hope not," said Dori. Suddenly something occurred to her. She circled the car, eyes going wide when she made it to the passenger side. "Oh my God, Sledge."

Sure enough, the paint was scraped along the door and speckled with rock chips. Dori touched the damage and felt sick all over again. Sledge crouched next to her and tried to wipe some of the dust off with his handkerchief.

"It's not too bad, Doreau. Not a big fix, but I'm no expert," he said, trying to reassure her. She crossed her arms and walked back to the front of the car, mad and tired and frustrated. Sledge stayed behind, still wiping the dust off the door. Music throbbed from the roadhouse and the night air was beginning to carry a chill. Dori shivered, watching the road, waiting for one of the cruisers to come back by and tell them what's going on.

"You cold?"

She was so wrapped in her thoughts she didn't hear Sledge walk up. He took the letterman's jacket off and handed it to her. Dori shrugged it on, grateful for the warmth. He leaned on the bumper again and she settled beside him. Dori was just about to make a remark about the stars when a police car pulled in. The officer got out and took a long look at the car and their outfits.

"They told me to tell you that Cadillac went off the road back a-ways and over the embankment," said the young man.

Dori grimaced and looked away.

"The Cadillac hit several trees on the way down and several boulders."

"Wow!" said Sledge.

"It proceeded down to the riverbed, where it rolled over a few times and caught on fire."

"Hey Dori, you hearing this? WOW!"

"Most of the occupants of the car were ejected, several were on fire. Too bad the river's dry this time of year. That would have helped. Anyway, we found a lot of drugs and cash and guns that spilled out. You guys snared some pretty bad dudes."

The officer eyed a very impressed Sledge and a traumatized Dori.

"Well, I gotta go. Drive safe," the officer said, tipping his hat to Dori. He walked slowly back to the cruiser and left. Dori felt even worse, something she wouldn't have thought was possible earlier in the evening.

* * *

Their ride back to the city was mostly silent. Sledge dozed a little. Dori was concerned about the damage to the car and getting more tired with the passing of each mile. She was awfully hungry too. They hadn't eaten a thing since leaving the station hours ago, and that was only a granola bar. Sledge ate his under duress.

The city lights loomed in the windshield. Sledge stirred and stretched. She could hear his spine crackle.

"I know someone who can fix that damage tonight. However, you can't say anything about where we're going. Let me do the talking," said Sledge. Dori nodded, and he began to give directions toward the industrial part of town, to an area she was vaguely familiar with. He told her to turn into the open door of a well-it quonset hut covered with graffiti. A couple of faces peered out of an office at them.

Sledge got out and slammed the door. The men walked out nervously. That changed when they recognized him.

"Hey it's Inspector Hammer! Nice car!"

Dori knew who they were now. They were a few of the hoodlums from that troubled high school. She didn't realize Sledge was still in touch.

"Detective Doreau and I were undercover tonight and she got some scrapes on the door. You know, women behind the wheel and their distance judgement - "

Dori shot him a dirty look.

"Anyway, beside that, do you guys think you can buff all this out so we don't get the riot act?"

The two hoodlums looked closely at the door and ran their fingers over the scuffs.

"Nah, not a problem. Take us about an hour," said the taller of the two.

"Good," said Sledge. "We'll head across the street and be back."

The guys were taping off the area they were going to buff when Dori and Sledge walked out. An all night diner beckoned with its neon. Dori was concerned about the car. But Sledge didn't seem to care.

The steamy warmth of the diner enveloped them, and cut the chill. They both ordered a lot of food and coffee.

"I guess we learned a lot about each other tonight," said Dori, stirring her cup.

"Yeah, I guess," said Sledge. He leaned in. "Where did you learn how to drive like that?"

Dori sighed. She didn't like talking about her family.

"Just...I learned."

Thankfully, the food arrived and Sledge didn't ask anything else. Dori drowned her fries in ketchup and ate them with a fork. Sledge put some of his fries on his burger, something she thought was a waste.

Then he did something he'd never done before. Sledge ordered a shake with two straws and pushed it to the center of the table. He looked at Dori expectantly. They both leaned in and started drinking it. Not a word passed between them until it was finished.

Dori smiled shyly at Sledge, who cast his eyes down. Through their partnership, she knew he was uncomfortable showing any emotion other than aggression in public. Sharing the shake was a huge deal for him and for them, maybe even more than the make-out session in the car.

Not that Sledge was picky. He always finished what she couldn't, whether it was a salad or a burger or a bowl of cereal. At first she thought it was an odd habit (especially the cereal), but after a while she'd just push over the plate and watch him go. He'd continue talking and eating like there was nothing to it.

They settled up and left the diner, leaving its warmth for the blast of cold night air. They were walking down the steps when Dori's heart ran cold. The shop's lights were off and it had a deserted air.

"Sledge, oh my God," she said.

He scanned the street.

"See, there it is," he said, pointing a block down. "You always expect the worst."

Dori walked briskly to the old car, which sat gleaming under a street lamp. She circled it and smiled. The door was repaired. The car was washed. But where was the key? Sledge checked all the wheel wells and found it, on the back passenger side.

"This car looks amazing. But I wanted to give them some money or at least buy them a meal," said Dori, getting in.

"They don't work that way. They're not bad kids, they're just different. Everything's failed them."

"Except you," Dori smiled, starting the car.

Sledge just shrugged.

* * *

"You know, I've grown fond of this old tub. Maybe some day I'll get one."

Dori and Sledge were leaning on the bumper again, this time at the top of the police department's parking garage. Their own less memorable cars were parked nearby.

"These cars aren't very safe, Doreau. No seatbelts. Everything's pointy," said Sledge, squinting off toward the horizon. Soon it would be early dawn.

"Yeah, but look at it, you have to admit it's stylish. Somehow your Dodge and my Tempo don't measure up," said Dori.

Sledge rolled his eyes.

They stood silently for a few minutes, watching the planes go overhead and the fog start to roll in.

"Want your jacket back? You must be freezing. At least I have a sweater on underneath," said Dori.

"Nah, you can turn it in with everything else. Besides, you look better in it than I do."

Dori was stunned. Two near-compliments in one night! Throw the shake in and you nearly had a miracle. She decided to try for one.

"Sledge...next Friday night, would you like to come over for dinner and a movie?"

He turned slowly, caught off-guard, even though she'd asked the same question countless times before. Dori held her breath.

Sledge nodded.

Then she started nodding. Dori was stunned and that was the only response she could muster.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," she said back. "Okay."

He gave her a weak smile and she smiled back. Then they both talked at the same time.

"I'm tired."

"I'm bushed."

"Well..."

Dori was so taken aback by his agreeing to dinner she was about to turn around and walk back to her car. Instead, Sledge grabbed her elbow and pulled her back for a kiss. When they broke for air, he said, "You have to tell me about your driving sometime."

She felt a familiar sickness wash over her. It was the same feeling that always accompanied anything concerning her family.

"Sometime, Sledge. See you later," she said.

He nodded and watched her leave, giving a small wave. Dori drove a few blocks away and took a few moments to soak everything in.

_He does love me._

_He might not love my past._

_But he loves me._


	3. Chapter 3

The morning sun filtered through the gingham curtains, throwing faint lines on the scuffed wooden floor.

Dori's eyes opened slowly. Breakfast was cooking. Bacon. Eggs. Biscuits. Her granddaddy's favorite. She could hear him out back chopping wood.

The sheets were faded but clean and slightly scratchy from being dried on the line. Dori pulled arm out from under them, testing the cool morning air. Grandma would be calling her soon.

At 11, Doreen Doreau was taking a breather. Her father was nowhere and her mother was working two jobs. Dori's younger sister was with her in Michigan, shunted from daycare to daycare.

In the end, Dori was the forgotten one. No one checked or doted on her, save for her grandparents and rambunctious extended family in Kentucky. So that's where she came time and time again, down on the bus by herself to her mother's parents.

This was where she wanted to be. Grandma always cooked a gargantuan meal and there was a lot of clucking over Dori being too skinny and too pale. Her mother called her a nervous child but after time in Kentucky, Dori would be tanned, well fed and content.

"Doreeeeennnnn! Get out here before your breakfast gets cold!"

Dori dressed quickly and straggled out to the table, rubbing her eyes. Her grandmother, once a ravishing dark-haired beauty, was now in a housecoat holding a cigarette in one hand and stirring eggs with the other.

* * *

If she was her grandma's favorite, then she was the absolute apple of her granddaddy's eye. He was tall, skinny and had a crazy streak. He'd been police chief for years but now his reflexes weren't what they used to be. He still wore his pistol in a side holster and bragged about being the "meanest, toughest son of a bitch" in the county. But he cried when two boys drowned in the creek during last year's flood. He adopted animals, so there was always a dog running around and maybe kittens sleeping by the old woodstove.

Dori liked it here. She felt comfortable at the table and happy to help with little chores around the small farm. Granddaddy taught her to shoot with an old .22 rifle and she spent many hours knocking cans off a ledge with him. They fished a lot and worked in the garden barefoot.

Her grandma knew about the trouble at home. She knew Dori was passed over and often neglected. The cold, raw winters in Grand Rapids meant miserable months stuck inside, watching her sister. It meant freezing walks to the store when the car died and trying to get food stamps to pay for milk, eggs and cheese.

"Grandma, I'm going to be a walking omelet if I stay in Grand Rapids," Dori said over a crackling phone connection. Soon a money order for a bus ticket showed up. Dori finished the school year in Little Poplar Creek, wearing hand-me-downs from older cousins. She got off the bus with just the clothes on her back, a nightgown, a pair of jeans and a couple books.

The gardens grew, the cows gave milk and there was always a sale at the little grocery store. People shared their bounty. They shared their love, too. Dori was instantly accepted around the community. They loved her grandparents and understood her mother was "troubled", whatever that meant.

"You better eat that before it turns to mush," said her grandma. Dori's feet swing from the chair and she could hardly get her elbows on the table. She overheard her Granddaddy describe her as "scrawny" and made a mental note to look up what that meant. Now he was drinking his coffee out of a cracked mug and looking through a Sears catalogue. Her grandma finally sat down with her own plate of bacon and eggs. The old washing machine was hooked up to sink and it punctuated the air with a chugging sound.

* * *

Dori's granddaddy was a moonshiner in his younger years, full of bluff and fight. But as Dori heard it, when he laid eyes on Anna Blackhorse, he was ready to settle down and go to church. The old man still had a lot of tussle left in him though and was more than happy to pull out his pistol to end an argument.

Once when Dori was going with him to town, a souped-up Camaro came flying by, weaving back and forth on the narrow two lane road. His eyes narrowed to a squint. They pulled over and waited. He wouldn't tell Dori what he was going to do, but told her to get in the driver's seat.

The Camaro rocketed past them in the opposite direction. "Doreen, get us going. Follow him," her granddaddy said quietly.

"I can't drive fast. I just learned."

"We'll catch up to him."

She drove cautiously down the hill. The Camaro was at the bottom.

"Hey you! Slow down!" her Granddaddy yelled. "People live here, you pickle headed, cross eyed bastard!"

The car revved its engine. Dori watched as he pulled out his pistol and leveled his arm out the truck's window.

He fired one shot. There went a tire.

Another shot. The second rear tire popped. Her granddaddy leaned back and smiled. Then he holstered his pistol and got out. The guy in the Camaro, obviously drunk, started weaving around the back of the car, looking woefully at his tires. An old codger in a house nearby came out and waved.

"Hey Tom! Can you call downtown for me?" her granddaddy yelled. The man on the porch waved again and went inside. "What the hell were you thinking? Drinking like that. You son of a bitch. That's what killed your daddy. Get against the car and stand down."

The driver sized him up but saw the furious look in the old man's eye and a finger on the trigger. He sighed and stumbled back against the car.

Dori watched all this from her perch on the truck's tall seat. She was in awe of her granddaddy, who seemed invincible.

"He's still completely nuts," said Uncle John, the local pastor. Dori believed it. That was okay, though. He loved Dori. When they'd go fishing he would always make a big deal over whatever she caught, even if it was just a little bluegill. Dori could de-scale and filet a fish in nothing flat for her grandma to dip in batter and fry up in an old cast iron pan.

That same pan made the popcorn they'd eat at night while watching "Gunsmoke" or "Bewitched" on the old black and white TV attached to a giant antenna. Sometimes there was no reception at all so they'd sit on the porch listening to the frogs croaking, watching the fireflies.

Her mother left all this behind to take a nursing scholarship in Chicago. She'd tell Dori that small towns suck the life out of a person and crush a person's dreams. Dori always felt better in Kentucky and it sure wasn't boring, with her grandfather shooting pop bottles and racing into town with his crazy cars and trucks, some riddled with bullet holes. Once there was even a robbery and shooting and he let Dori tag along as he methodically went over the crime scene and preserved evidence. The blood stains on the wall made an impression on her.

They never mentioned Dori's dad. Her mom met him while she was in college. He was a Canadian and a smooth talker with self esteem issues. After they married and moved to Michigan, Dori's mom discovered he had a lot of girlfriends. Little did she know, even after having their two girls, he would drop out of sight. Later she figured out why, One of his other women had a boyfriend. He came by and kicked the door in, only to learn Dean Doreau left for a pack of cigarettes two months earlier and never came back. Dori was eight when that happened and her mother locked herself in her bedroom. Dori had to calm little JoAnne, who was only four at the time and make her breakfast the next morning.

Dori worried about JoAnne. Their mother was working at Sears during the day and cleaning laundromats at night. She never went back to nursing. All she did was drink and wait for Dean to return.

Thankfully, in Kentucky, all that seemed very far away.

The screen door banged and in ran some of her cousins, twins who lived up the road. They came over every day to mooch food (all they ever had at their house was cereal) and goof off in front of the TV. Dori took this as a sign to finish her own breakfast and start the dishes.

She spent the time thinking about what she wanted for her birthday (records) and wondering if she could stay here for school in the fall. Then she went out to do her garden work, methodically weeding the carrots and picking the asparagus that seemingly grew overnight in the loamy soil.

* * *

At noon the whistle sounded in town to mark lunch time. The sound reverberated off the hills and down the hollows. People dropped whatever they were doing to head inside.

Dori wandered in carrying three tomatoes, to find her granddaddy on the phone, talking fast in a hushed voice. That meant there was trouble somewhere. Her grandma pretended to be making sandwiches but she was trying to listen too. Dori sat down to eat but kept her chewing at a minimum. The phone slammed down on the cradle and her granddaddy came in, looking troubled. He sat down in his usual spot while Dori and her grandmother looked at him expectantly. Instead, he started eating.

It was a quiet lunch. The phone rang again before they were done and Dori jumped up to get it.

"Is Sheriff Barbour there please?" asked a panicked voice. Before she could say yes or no, he grabbed the receiver and walked into the other room, knocking over several things with the cord.

Her grandmother asked what was wrong and all Dori could do was shrug and finish her ice cream. They heard the phone hang up again and the former sheriff came back in, only to rummage through the kitchen drawer that held his ammunition.

"Pop, you be careful. This ain't your job anymore. Let them handle this," said her grandma.

"They are, but they need me. They need my shooting. Chuck is holding his girlfriend hostage in that hotel down by the bridge."

He grabbed his long rifle and his glasses and headed out the door. The old truck started with wheeze and a cough, then roared to life. Soon all they could see was the dust left in its wake.

"Lord, please protect Abraham and let him come home safely," Dori's grandmother prayed, looking out the window. Dori stood behind her. "Well, may as well finish what we started. Once you wash the dishes we'll play cards."

* * *

Late that evening, Abraham Barbour came home and sagged heavily into a chair on the porch. He looked bone tired, from his blue eyes to his cowboy boots. He unloaded the rifle and started cleaning it. Dori noticed blood in his hair while he hummed one of his church songs.

Her grandmother heated up his dinner on a little tray in the stove. Dori took it to him.

"Thank you dear," he said before slowly eating the beans, cornbread and onions. This was his favorite meal.

Her grandmother thanked God loudly the moment the truck pulled up. Even at a young age, Dori had the sense this is how it had always been, from the tray in the oven to the slow hymn sung while cleaning the gun's barrel.

"He ain't gonna bother any women anymore. Nope," he said, once her grandmother came out. "She's okay, still scared."

They sat there that evening, listening to the sounds of the night. Dori thought about death and the power her granddaddy had over it. His job was keeping the peace. She looked at the bullet holes in the porch's ceiling. Maybe he had to be crazy to do it.

* * *

As summer waned on, Dori's color returned thanks to all the vegetables and sunshine. Her grandma made her take a spoonful of molasses every day because she was worried about anemia. Dori was no longer the stressed, skinny little person who struggled off the bus. Instead, she was growing robust and getting tall.

Her granddaddy took her out in the truck at least three times a week, down the old roads her became familiar with back in his moonshine days. They'd laugh and chew Blackjack gum as the old jalopy skidded through curves and struggled up hills. Once it even slewed sideways and lost its grip, but he was there to teach her how to straighten out. He said she drove like the devil but had the face of an angel.

While they were out tearing up the roads in early August, Dori's mother called home. The situation in Michigan was not good, she said. There was no money. She couldn't afford a bus ticket.

"Young lady, you're welcome to stay with us. We don't have much, it's hard work, and we can't help much with your schooling," her grandmother said that night on the porch. Dori looked up at the house with its patched tin roof and sagging chimney and felt so relieved she could hardly stand it.

"All you have to do is be kind and do your schoolwork and come to church. That's all we ask," said her granddaddy.

Dori hugged both of them. She went in and laid down on her bed, breathing a sigh of relief. She heard her grandfather out back, shooting tin cans off the top of the clothesline and whooping with every hit. She went to join him.

* * *

In summer, mean storms would blow up the little valley and knock the power out for days. They'd have to haul water up from the creek and boil it for drinking and bathing. On those dark evenings, when dinner was done, they'd sit outside with a kerosene lamp burning in the window.

Dori had her spot on the steps. She'd grab one of the cats to cuddle and talk to her grandparents about their lives and her ancestors.

One night, while Granddaddy was downtown buying more kerosene, Dori asked her grandma about falling in love.

"Did you think it was going to happen with Granddaddy or was it a surprise?"

"I didn't like him at all first. He was a nut."

Dori giggled.

"But you know, the more time I spent with him, he grew on me. He still says things that make me mad and I have to drag him to that church every Sunday, but I knew he'd always be loyal to me. My sister's husband messed around on her, but your granddaddy made his choice and never took up any other woman. I'm lucky."

Dori nodded. She thought about the man she'd marry and hoped he was half as nice as her granddaddy. Maybe even as crazy as him too.

* * *

Dori stayed with her grandparents for the next few years. She made fast friends at school, played in the band and was even a JV cheerleader. With all the love and warmth her family provided, she blossomed into a sweet-natured young woman. Her teachers liked her and so did the boys. Dori was aware any major interaction with the latter would get back to her family, so she was careful. But she had fun making out at parties and dancing in the school gym, which she always helped decorate.

She came home from cheerleading practice the year she turned 15 to find her grandmother in tears.

"Is something wrong with Granddaddy?" asked Dori, who let her schoolbooks slide to the floor.

"No. Your mother wants you back," said her grandmother. "I tried to tell her you were fine here, you were helping us out, you were happy. But she can't get the child support if you're not there. She needs you to come get a job to help out. She's in California with a new man now."

"Well, I'm not going there. Things are fine here," Dori said, although she was close to tears of frustration.

"She'll get the law after us."

Dori started crying. "No, no I won't go. Granddaddy will protect me. I can't go."

The tears were flowing now, staining her polyester cheer outfit.

"Sweetheart, you have to. We'll be fine, Lord willing. But I ain't never going to see you again."

"Don't say that! Don't say that! Grandma, no!"

Her granddaddy came in and tried to comfort her grandmother.

"Honey, we're sure going to miss you. But your mother needs you now," he said through tears in his eyes.

Dori got up and went to both of them. They all held each other tight.

"Never settle for anything but the best, Doreen," said her grandma. "You're better than all this, I see that light inside you that shimmers and glows."

"I promise, I'll be back. I promise," Dori said through tears. There went her plan to go to Berea College. There went her friends, social life, studies and hopes and dreams. They flew out through the crooked chimney and fell flat.

* * *

The bus ride to Fresno was unending. Her welcome at the bus station was a peck on the cheek from her mom, a hesitant hug from JoAnne and an appraising eye from her mother's boyfriend, Jeff. The landscape seemed dry and arid.

She shared a small room with her sister in a weedy apartment building. She found a job at an ice cream parlor and lived off the food there. School was school. She didn't want to be a cheerleader and had no interest in boys. All Dori wanted to do is leave. She talked to her grandparents whenever she could, using a payphone on the way to work. She grew skinny and sallow again and her attitude matched. Her Kentucky accent made her an outcast, so she kept quiet and did everything she could to lose it as quickly as possible.

The only upside were her grades, which were pretty fair. There was also a karate studio next to the ice cream parlor. An instructor offered her a free lesson in exchange for a week's worth of sundaes and she was immediately hooked. Dori held back money from her paycheck to take two lessons a week. Her mother never knew. All she wanted was the little pile of cash Dori brought home every day. She never paid attention otherwise, even when Dori cried at night or slammed the door in frustration.

Jeff seemed a little too friendly right from the start. He would sit next to her on the couch while she did her homework and try to talk. Once he put his hand on her knee. That's when Dori's mother walked in. He removed immediately, but she saw something helpless in her mother's eyes and didn't like it.

No one asked Dori to the prom her senior year, but she wouldn't have been able to afford a dress anyway. She put on her armor at school and only socialized with a couple of kids who self-identified as nerds. They were smart and also from broken homes. They studied together and talked about college and scholarships.

When the guidance counselor asked what she wanted to major in, Dori drew a blank. Then she thought about her granddaddy. He was the one who kept the peace. He could figure out just about any situation and solve it, with or without a gun. That just seemed to come naturally to him.

"If I were going to be an investigator, or police officer, or maybe work for the FBI, what would I study?" she asked the counselor, who smiled and started shuffling through brochures.

"Sonoma State has an excellent criminology program. You could do that and minor in psychology. With your grades, I think you could get a scholarship."

Dori held the brochure tight and immediately wrote for an application, but had the university send it in care of the ice cream parlor. After it came, and she filled it out along with several scholarship applications and waited.

The answer was yes. A work-study scholarship would cover room and board. Other scholarships for impoverished students would fill out the rest. Dori figured she could take an off campus job to pay for books and maybe rent a room for the summer. This was a flickering bright light in her mind and it gave her hope during the long summer scooping ice cream and avoiding Jeff.

* * *

The week Dori turned 18 she cornered her mother. The air was hazy, full of smoke from cigarettes. Light filtered in around the orange kitchen curtains, falling on the dishes that were never done and the newspapers piled on the table.

"We need to talk about my college plans," she said. Her mother looked surprised.

"I thought you were going to community college here and transferring to Fresno State," she said.

"No, I have a full scholarship at Sonoma State. I'm catching a ride out tomorrow," said Dori firmly.

"Did I say you could leave?" her mother asked, with a hard edge to her voice. "I've been working two jobs to support you and your sister and come home to a mess every night."

"I was salutatorian. There was an invitation in the mail. It was in the trash when I found it," Dori said, her voice rising. Her mother was trembling now. She always pulled the same act when confronted with the truth.

"What about Jeff? When we the last time he worked?" Dori asked, practically shouting. "You never bother him about it. He just sits. Where does the money come from for his cigarettes and all the food he eats?"

"Honestly, I don't know what gets into you. How selfish can a person be? You have your little sister to watch."

"JoAnne is in high school. She can watch herself."

"You are the most ungrateful child I have ever laid eyes on. You're worse than your grandparents, off in a little rosy fantasy world," sniffed her mother. "You wouldn't survive a day dealing with real life. They'll find out you're white trash at that college and you'll get stuck with some loser like I did. You know why? I see your father in your face."

"Go have another drink," hissed Dori.

Her mother stomped out, no doubt to tell Jeff about Dori's little "scheme", as she later called it. Dori left for work and happily called her grandparents on the way, who clapped and cheered her college plans. Her granddaddy couldn't have been more proud. But the "white trash" comment bothered her. Maybe her mother was, but the rest of her family wasn't.

* * *

Her friend Mike, who was also going to Sonoma, was planning to leave at noon. His family didn't have much money either, but he scrimped and saved and bought an old station wagon. Dori packed up the basics while JoAnne watched.

"Mom says you're abandoning us," JoAnne said. She was wearing too much makeup.

"I'm not abandoning anyone. I'm getting out of here and I need to get away from her."

JoAnne didn't say much else. Dori gave her some records and clothes and hauled the rest down to the parking lot. Jeff sat smoking at the dinner table the whole time and didn't offer to help. Dori had no idea where her mother was.

She came up to make one last sweep and stopped in the kitchen to make some sandwiches for the road. She was just getting them wrapped when she felt Jeff behind her.

"You're letting your mother down, leaving," he said quietly. When Dori turned around, she didn't like the look in his eye. He was too close.

"You turned into a pretty girl," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "Do I get a goodbye kiss?"

"No?"

Dori turned and walked toward the stairs. He was on her heels. She heard JoAnne walk out of their room.

"Come on, just one little kiss. I been a good boy," Jeff said. He grabbed her arm and swung her around. He then tried to pull her close. She could smell whiskey on his breath.

Dori was skinny but muscular from the karate. She struggled for a moment as he locked his hands around her arms and tried to kiss her.

She hiked her knee into his crotch and at the same time, delivered the hardest chop she could to his shoulder blade.

"Don't you ever touch JoAnne like this, or I'll come back and finish the job," she hissed as Jeff fell over. A horn honked below. "Jo, go somewhere."

JoAnne stepped over Jeff and gave Dori an awed look as she ran down the steps and out the door. Dori followed and threw all her stuff into the wagon. She couldn't see any movement in the apartment as they drove away.

She smiled and looked ahead, thinking about what comes next.

* * *

You've heard about round pegs in round holes. That was Dori at Sonoma State College. She was grateful for her roommate June's instant friendship. They decorated the little room in tandem with odds and ends they found at a thrift shop near campus. Dori, who was always at home in the garden, bought a spider plant and tended it carefully.

The classes were a breeze. She found the coursework a joy, but money was dwindling from her paltry savings. A karate studio was looking for a receptionist and she figured after all her classes, there was some qualification. Soon she was greeting the customers and even teaching some basic classes to young children. The family that owned the studio was very generous and let her take advanced classes for free. She ate dinner with them a lot. The food tasted like an adventure.

Her grandparents sent a couple dollars whenever they could. Dori didn't hear from her mother, but JoAnne called every once in a while, updating her on the situation at home. Jeff was gone, and their mother was drinking and disappearing for long stretches at night. Leaving her little sister behind in the situation weighed heavy on Dori. All she could do was hope Jo would get out and resist making any mistakes.

In the midst of all this, Joe showed up. They met in a study group at the library and he seemed to be everything Dori was looking for. He was tall, handsome and played tennis on the college team. His parents ran a couple of drive-ins near Tulare. Joe drove her where she wanted to go and even waited around for her to finish at the karate studio. It didn't take long for them to become an item.

She snuck him into her dorm one night and lost her virginity in a clumsy ten minute burst of passion. In a sense, Dori was happy to get it out of the way, but she wondered if that was it. And if that was "it", there wasn't much to it. Still, Joe was attentive (if sometimes slightly dismissive) and she felt happy. He never asked about her family but she met his.

Joe's mother was snooty to the point of iciness with Dori. The father didn't budge from in front of his football game. The day pivoted from happy to miserable quickly. Dori realized she didn't come from much, but after his mother's line of questioning she felt ashamed and violated. She cried on the drive back but all Joe wanted to do was get her into bed again.

* * *

Opportunity knocked for Dori that summer. She found a scholarship to pay for a couple summer classes, so she stayed in the dorm, studied, worked and talked to Joe on the phone when she could. He was back home helping his family run their drive-ins.

The criminology professor chose Dori to shadow a Sonoma police officer for a week. At first, they didn't talk much, but when she told him about Kentucky, Officer Stevens broke into a smile. He was a Tennessee boy, who moved to California after a stint in the Marines. They talked about their grandfathers, who were both small-town law enforcement and a little trigger happy on the side. Dori ended up at his house for dinner that Friday, made especially for her by Mrs. Stevens, with all the cornbread and greens Dori craved. Later that summer she made some extra cash babysitting their boys, who were sweet but messy and rambunctious.

Dori never thought much about having kids until then. She wondered why her mother let the job slide. It seemed like the most rewarding thing a person could do.

In her junior year, Dori started thinking seriously about what was next in her life. She had a feeling Joe wanted to get married. He was on track to take over the family business. Being stuck in Tulare as a beat cop didn't hold any appeal. Dori hinted at that but Joe brushed her off.

"You act like you don't want any security in your life," he sniffed, spitting a huge wad of gum out the car's window.

"I do. These next few years are going to be make or break time. I don't want to be cooped up," she said, staring out her own window.

Joe laughed and Dori stewed. She was beginning to feel a simmering resentment against him and his family and his money. They didn't seem like nice people. But she kept her mouth shut and Joe kept driving. Dori still wasn't enjoying sex. This seemed to be another thing about their relationship - and maybe her - that was lacking.

* * *

In the fall of her senior year, the phone in the hall rang late one night. Dori heard it but turned over in bed and just moaned. June was snoring away and didn't even react. Dori was about to go back to sleep when she heard a light knock on her door and someone whispering her name.

Her next door neighbor was on the other side. "Someone's calling you from home, they said, I couldn't understand his accent," the dormmate said, before shuffling off back to her pile of books.

A bolt of fear shot through Dori. She stared at the reciever, which seemed so far away. It felt like days before she got to it and heard the achingly familiar voice on the other end.

Her Uncle John was on there. Grandma was dead.

Dori took the news as quietly as possible. She didn't understand, they had just talked the day before. John said there was an anuerysm. Probably from the smoking. She got real sick earlier in the day and by the time they got her to hospital in Barbourville it was too late. Granddaddy was asleep.

"You know you were the light of her life, girlie. She kept your room the way it was, all the posters are still up and some of your clothes are still in the closet."

"I told her I'd come back," said Dori, on the verge of breaking down. "She knew I wasn't going to be able to."

John sounded tired and confused. Dori couldn't talk much longer. She needed to step away.

"I can't get a hold of your mother," John said. "Do you have a better number?"

Dori didn't.

"I'll call with the arrangements. Won't be much, we need to get your granddaddy out of that house and into mine. But I'll send you what I can, your old books, so you can have them back. We love you. Call tomorrow and talk to your grandpa. He'll need to hear your voice."

Dori thanked John and hung up. She went up to the roof of her dorm, where she and Joe often had trysts. Dori laid back on an old blanket and stared at the stars.

"I love you Grandma. I'll make you proud. I won't settle," she said through tears. "I won't settle."

* * *

Three weeks later, a box wrapped in brown paper and twine arrived from Little Poplar Creek. In it, Dori found her Little House on Prairie books, some old posters and some of her grandmother's cookware, including her apple cake pans. Dori hugged them to her chest. There was an envelope at the bottom of the box, with her name in shaky, scratchy handwriting.

When she opened it, a check fell out. So did a note.

_Doreen,_

_Your grandma wanted you to have a little nest egg. It isn't so much but maybe you can get the car you need and some books you like._

_Love, Granddaddy Abraham_

Dori looked at the check. She would have never guessed her grandparents would have $1,000 to spare, but then she remembered they never really spent money on anything.

She pocketed the check and went to call Joe. She had some breaking up to do.

Dori spent some of the money on an old VW Bug that was adequate and entertaining. The guy who sold it to her made a big deal about the stick shift and whether she could drive it or not. The longer he talked, the more she deducted from her offer. At the end, the silly orange car was a steal.

The career center at Sonoma State was filled with company fliers but very little in the way of grad school brochures. Dori was about to begin an internship at the Sonoma Police Department with investigations and she was sure this was what she was destined to do. But Officer Stevens pushed for her to get an advanced degree.

"You're on track to be an honors grad and when you get too old to walk the beat, or you want to step away, you can teach," he said. "God help if you get hurt. If you do, there's that degree."

One of her professors told her about Cal State Long Beach's new program and promised to put in a word. Dori really hit the books for the rest of her semesters, which was easy to do now that Joe wasn't in the picture. She saw him on campus occasionally with a new girlfriend, who just laughed in her direction. Dori hoped that girl liked Tulare and smelling like french fry grease.

* * *

The good news came a few weeks before graduation. Dori was in the graduate program for the fall. June, who seemed rudderless with her philosophy degree, wanted to move closer to the beach and work on her tan. They agreed to share an apartment in Long Beach.

At graduation, the Stevens family and her karate friends came to see her walk the stage. June's parents took them out to eat. Dori was proud of her work and proud of the honors she earned. When she called her granddaddy and told him about it all, he was pleased but sounded tired.

"I know your grandma would be proud. We all are over here. Just ain't the same without Anna. I don't even feel like doing any shooting. She'd say, Pa, knock that off. You're going to turn this house into a fine sieve one day," he remembered.

Dori felt something slip inside her. He knew he was fading away.

"Maybe you'd like some of my old textbooks to pass the time," she offered, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Maybe," he said. "I love you, little girl."

"I love you too."

He hung up the phone.

* * *

Long Beach was a big change from Sonoma. The atmosphere was more laid-back and relaxed. The traffic jangled Dori's nerves and so did the beach culture. She was turning into a very serious young woman, much to June's amusement. June took a job at a beach restaurant and cleaned up in tips. She wasn't around much, always on dates or picking up extra shifts.

Dori spent most of her time in the school library or over at the police department. She had some psychology courses to take and they required massive papers. The course load was daunting and nothing she could breeze through as in the past.

"Get down to the beach for once! You look like a ghost!" said June, eating cereal with one of her overnight dates. "Maybe you'll meet a guy or two."

"I know someone that would take you out," the date said, with a blank surfer stare.

"No thanks," smiled Dori. She needed a run to clear her head. The sun was bleaching her hair blonde, but she didn't care.

For extra cash, Dori was working at another karate center. This one was owned by a man who worked with police on hand to hand combat training. Dori could already do the high kick, but she now honed her close-range skills. She found it hard but fascinating. Dori gained a little weight but it was all muscle. She was covered in bruises. They seemed like badges of honor.

* * *

During one of her ride-alongs, an investigator from the Long Beach precinct showed her a picture of his police academy graduating class. She studied it carefully and found herself drawn to a blonde recruit looking very proud of himself at the end of a row. He had a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh him. He was insane. Had a funny name, too. We would sneak out to get beer and he'd get so mad," remembered the investigator. "God, I wish I could remember that asshole's name."

Dori thought the recruit was handsome in a chiseled, different sort of way. There was something about his eyes that seemed familiar.

But then the radio started crackling and they were on their way to a robbery. Dori promptly forgot about the picture and the young man who drew her attention.

* * *

Dori did find a little time to date. Most were June's cast-offs and in her mind, losers. Dori was a disciplined young woman. These guys weren't. Some of the men in her program were nice but they were all buried under classes, internships and jobs. A couple of officers at the precinct were also interested, but the chief was very outspoken about them staying away from potential recruits.

She did break down and have sex with one of the surfer guys. He seemed to be the smartest of the group and Dori was curious as to whether she would enjoy it more than she did with Joe. To her, it felt the same.

Around this time, her mother called looking for money. JoAnne moved in with a boyfriend and wasn't bringing in a paycheck anymore. Dori was living on a grad student budget, with very little to spare. She tried explaining it to her mother. The explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Selfish," hissed her mother, before she hung up.

She knew her mother would call Kentucky looking for money, too. Her Granddaddy was a softer sell. Dori called him once a week. He seemed disinterested in anything but Dori's studies. He asked a lot about the psychology classes and her self defense skills. Never about shooting or driving, because he was her best teacher.

After two years of non-stop work, Dori walked the stage to get her Masters in criminology, with a concentration on terrorist psychology. She was fast tracked into the police academy.

* * *

The Beetle sputtered up to San Mateo, for a painfully long period of the same-old same-old for Dori. Not surprisingly, the commanding officers would use her as an example, which didn't endear her to fellow recruits. She did pick up some teaching knowledge by osmosis and stayed for a few extra courses on self defense.

Her fellow recruits would talk about where they wanted go. Almost all were destined to be beat cops. Dori wasn't looking down that road. She thought briefly about getting scholarships for doctorate in psychology, but she was sick of sitting in a classroom and writing papers. When Officer Stevens, who was now Chief Stevens called, he offered her a spot in investigations in Sonoma. Dori jumped at the chance.

* * *

Finally. She had a partner, a badge and handcuffs. Her first call was a man threatening suicide on the side of a bridge. Dori talked to him for an hour, using all her psychology knowledge. He finally climbed back over the railing. The guys back at the station clapped her on the back.

It didn't all go that smoothly. An unattended death turned her stomach. A woman raped by a co-worker brought Dori into the hellscape that is sexual assault in the workplace. At one point, she sent her partner in for an interview, because the men at this car dealership were just so odious. Dori felt defeated and sad. She knew about the mental toll the job takes. Experiencing it first hand was something else. She didn't have June to talk to after hours. Instead, it was back to a tiny basement apartment just to sleep.

Her partner didn't help. He had low opinions of women doing police work. Even though Dori carried an advanced degree and could fight almost anyone, he wrote her off as a gimmick. Even Chief Stevens would occasionally make jokes at her expense.

She went to a bar alone one night, needing a drink and feeling lonely. One of the other officers was also in there alone. He seemed okay. They hadn't interacted much. He bought her a few beers and asked her out.

They went out to dinner on a Friday night and spent the rest of the weekend in bed. Dori felt a little better about sex this time around and Bobby was agreeable to anything. The two of them kept things quiet around the precinct and rarely saw each other on shift. On Friday nights, they'd buy some beer and pizza and settle in for the weekend at his place, watching movies and screwing around.

Funny though - Dori still felt lonely. She often dreamed about the front porch in Little Poplar Creek, with the night noises from the woods and the echoes of cars honking in town. She never felt lonely there, not with her grandma rocking and her granddaddy cleaning his gun and the old washing machine chugging away. She could never tell Bobby this. He was a big city boy who thought Sonoma was a hick town too far away from Los Angeles.

* * *

Dori was just about to head over to Bobby's on a balmy Friday night when a call came.

"Doreen, it's your uncle John. Sorry to be the one to tell you, but your granddaddy passed today around noon. He went for a nap and never woke up."

Dori couldn't say anything.

"Dori, I'm so sorry. He just gave out."

John went on, but Dori was too stunned to say even the simplest words. She wanted to go home but it wouldn't ever be the same again.

After John hung up, Dori sat at the kitchen table, put her head in her hands and cried.

* * *

She had just enough for a plane ticket and a rental car. Uncle John offered his couch. Bobby drove her to Sacramento to catch a plane to Cincinnati, where she'd connect to Knoxville. He kissed her goodbye and tried to calm her nerves about flying. He also said they should move in together when she returned.

After the all day trip cross-country (which was still better than the bus), Dori found herself approaching Little Poplar Creek from the south side out of habit. She'd never driven a proper car around the area and felt like an alien returning to Mars. Things seemed familiar but everything needed a coat of paint.

The road to John's took her by her grandparent's house. Some of her cousins lived in it now. Smoke was coming out the old crooked chimney and the porch was sagging more. All around her, Dori was keenly aware of the poverty by seeing everything through older, almost different eyes. Her time in Little Poplar Creek always seemed like a dream.

John was happy to see her. He was older, still looked like her mother but was more quiet and patient.

"You haven't changed a bit," he smiled. "If anything, you look more like Mama."

He led Dori in to his house, which pitched slightly to the right. His wife and oldest son greeted her warmly and promptly sat a plate of food and a glass of fruit punch in front of her. She ate, expecting to see her grandparents come walking in and feeling sad knowing they never would.

"Don't she look like Mama?" John asked his wife, who nodded. She never did say much. "You know she's a big cop now out west."

"Just in Sonoma County, where the grapes grow. Nothing's as exciting out there as it was here."

When dusk fell, John went to do work in the church and Dori was able to escape to the porch. The sounds she remembered were still here. For a moment she dreamed she was back in bed, dreaming all of this. Then she remembered they were burying her granddaddy tomorrow and it all came crashing back.

One of her cousins stepped out of the shadows.

"Thought you could use this," he said, handing over a cold beer. Gratefully, Dori popped the top and sat down on the steps. "Things have changed around here, haven't they?"

In the gloom she could discern it was Junior, John's youngest child. She and Junior were roughly the same age. He'd been the dreamer of the family and joined the Army at 16 to get out. Now he was doing mechanic work closer to Lexington.

"Everything seems like it's changed except me," said Dori, taking another sip.

"Nah. I mean, you talk the same and walk the same and you're still pretty scrawny, but you got smarter and smarter and everyone else here stagnated. Granddaddy used to tell me about the books you sent him and how you'd need to be Einstein to understand half of it."

Dori smiled.

"I'm going to miss the old wild man," she said, remembering the holes in the porch roof and the bald tires on the truck.

"I remember going over to eat with y'all and wondering how the two of them ever made a couple," laughed Junior.

Dori wondered this herself. She thought briefly about Bobby.

"Opposites attract. You have to have some common traits. Maybe it goes beyond all that. Must be something cosmic."

"You really are living in California, arentcha," Junior said, rolling his eyes. "Blonde hair and all."

They both laughed. It felt good to talk to family, someone that remembered the old days and appreciated them too.

"Wanna shoot some guns?" asked Junior.

"Yes," said Dori. "Only if I can use the rifle."

"No fair."

"Tough shit," she said. They laughed again. She missed these people so much.

* * *

The service for her granddaddy was long because they weren't expecting such a crowd. Someone had to go fetch more chairs, then some cars got stuck coming up the hill to the cemetery.

John, the preacher of the family, officiated. Dori smiled to herself when she caught her cousins checking their watches. John was known to go on and on. She didn't really show much emotion in front of the mourners. It would have been out of character for the family.

The next day, she climbed the hill with flowers just to talk to her grandparents.

"I made it back. It wasn't soon, but I guess you know I'm here and I'm fine."

She started crying.

"I get so lonely without you. When I dream about the house, the two of you are there, taking care of me, watching over me. No one loves me like that now. I can't be myself in front of anyone."

"And there's this guy, Bobby, and I should love him but something's holding me back. He wouldn't understand my life here."

Dori was quiet for a moment. A plane buzzed overhead and a bird chirped in a nearby walnut tree. If her grandparent were going to give her a sign about anything, it wasn't today.

* * *

Back in Sonoma, Bobby was just as he was when she left. Dori felt a tectonic shift inside her. Little Poplar Creek went on with life. It was still there and it would always be there. A little inheritance check came, not much, but enough to take a week-long course at the FBI Academy in Virginia. Bobby thought she was nuts to quit the force and so did Chief Stevens.

"I'm not settling," she told him, handing over her badge and gun. He shook his head and let her go.

Dori drove herself to the airport this time and marched on the plane like she owned it. She smiled when the plane swooped over the Potomac to land at National and didn't even mind the traffic coming out of DC on I-95.

The course was a joy from start to finish. They asked her to stay another week for another short course on profiling and she agreed. The classes and instructors were smart, top of their game and secretive. She had a lot to learn, it seemed, and while the thought of entering the Academy appealed, Dori realized a lot of this needed to be learned on the job.

Plus, she wasn't sure she could handle DC. After nearly missing her flight back due to three massive traffic jams, the area seemed like a bit much.

* * *

Dori came back to no job, being overqualified for beat work and for Bobby, who wasn't willing to leave Sonoma and seemed like background noise. His complaints about food, co-workers and Dori's VW turned into noise. She reached out to a contact she made in grad school about work in San Francisco.

In the meantime, she taught a class at Sonoma State on criminal psychology, thanks to a favor from a professor that was retiring. She also took a computer class. Both of these would come in handy down the road.

After the semester ended, her call came from San Francisco. They wanted her to work in an eastern precinct as a full fledged detective. The move was an upheaval. With the salary bump, the first thing Dori did was find a nice apartment and decorate it with all the colors and plants it could hold. The landlord, who was happy to have a cop on the premises, didn't even charge her extra for the unit with a fireplace.

She even sucked it up and financed a new car. Handing over the keys to the VW was tougher than she expected it would be. The little Bug was so tired and it was struggling to make it up the city's hills. When it died climbing one near her apartment, it was time for the little car to go.

* * *

As exciting as San Francisco could be, her next few years were blah. Dori helped the Feds on a few cases and was occasionally called out to a murder scene to help puzzle things out. She didn't have a partner and rarely saw her commanding officer.

In the middle of all this, her sister had a baby. Dori was excited to be an aunt and even drove down to Fresno to see Sean a few times. But something wasn't right about JoAnne. She'd disappear for long periods of time, like her mother. Dori cuddled Sean and watched TV, waiting for her sister to come back. She didn't ask where Sean's father was.

Her mother wasn't working anymore. She found a new man, who struck Dori as harmless but odious. He was a heavy smoker who reeked of cigarettes and marijuana. The apartment smelled the same. Dori didn't stay long because her eyes would water. Also, her mother wasn't very welcoming. She'd leave about ten minutes after Dori arrived, without so much as a word.

Bobby came up to San Francisco twice. He wouldn't leave the apartment. He just wanted sex. Dori made excuses and he slept on the couch. Soon there was word from Sonoma he was seeing another woman. That was fine with Dori. She stayed to herself for a long time, almost resigned to being lonely.

* * *

One day a call came from the mayor's office. Terrorists kidnapped his daughter. Since she was known around the precinct for specializing in the area of psychology and the criminal mind, she was called to the mansion to take part in the investigation. It would be overseen by city police, led by an investigator who worked downtown. She met his supervisor briefly and thought he seemed a little uptight. Then she found out why.

Dori paid little attention to Sledge Hammer their first day on the case. Everything he said was so horrifying and demeaning she spent most of the time drafting a complaint letter in her head. She couldn't even look at him straight on. He seemed to have a knack for aggravating her.

After he left her outside while meeting a source, Dori was again incensed. She'd never met anyone so misogynistic in her life and really didn't care what happened to him.

Then she heard a shot and instinct kicked in.

She ran through the doorway, gun drawn, only to see Hammer and some greasy slimeball gaping at her. Then she felt a presence behind her. Assuming it was another criminal, she flattened him.

"Doreau, the was excessively violent and completely unnecessary. I loved it. It was poetry in motion."

She brushed herself off.

"Thank you, I was top in my class in hand to hand combat."

Sledge Hammer walked over and their eyes finally met. She felt a shock. Something about his seemed so familiar.

The he smiled in way she found both infuriating and intriguing.

"I'd like to fight you sometime, Doreau," he said, never breaking eye contact.

Dori felt lightning shoot up her spine.

"You're on."


End file.
